


Refurbishment

by zinke



Series: What We Didn't See [13]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-03
Updated: 2007-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: So much was being expected of him, and already he was coming up short.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a long, long time coming and it honestly never would have seen the light of day if not for caz963’s patience, sound advice and the occasional wielding of her 2x4. If anyone needs a recap, you can check out the earlier stories in this series here, though this story can be read as a stand-alone. 
> 
> My description of the refurbished Hawk and Dove is based on changes made to one of my all-time favorite pubs in Boston, Matt Murphy’s. Consider its inclusion in this story a part of my own personal grieving process. I am happy to report, however, that their bread pudding is still top-notch and worth trying if you’re ever in town.

As he turned his back on the glowing marble columns of the White House and made his way across Pennsylvania Avenue, Josh told himself that the shiver prickling down his spine was due only to the unseasonable chill in the air, and nothing else. He forced himself to ignore the all-too-familiar bitterness at the back of his throat, brought on by the ethereal presence of the building he loved and revered and the relentless crush of Jed Bartlet’s well-intentioned words upon his conscience.

So much was being expected of him, and already he was coming up short. 

They had been right – CJ, Toby, Goodwin, Leo – he wasn’t ready to do this on his own, and neither was Matt Santos. He’d been proud when the Congressman had taken the podium at the convention and unequivocally ignored the Party’s directive to step down, assured that his Christmas flight to Houston had been the right thing to do. Now, months later, that certainty had vanished and he felt decidedly unworthy of the trust his colleagues and his Party had placed in him – and in his at times wayward candidate – that night in San Diego.

Josh had known from the outset that Matt Santos was no Josiah Bartlet. But there had been enough compelling similarities between the two men to ultimately drive Josh to abandon the safer road in favor of supporting another dark-horse candidate, a man who possessed both the will and vision to do great things, if given the chance.

And while there’d been no question that Matt Santos had matured immeasurably during the primaries, Josh hadn't been able to escape the feeling that there was still something missing, some final piece of the puzzle that had yet to fall into place. But by the end of the convention, he'd been in absolutely no doubt as to what – or rather who – that piece was.

Coming to a stop at the corner of Lafayette Square, Josh readjusted his backpack on his shoulder, absently watching the traffic light slip from green, to yellow, to red as he remembered the look on Leo’s face when he'd asked – no, told him that he would be the next Vice President of the United States. There had been shock, yes, and certainly a hint of trepidation at the long road and unforeseen challenges that would lie ahead. But when Leo had come to find him only a few minutes later, there had been nothing but unbridled excitement shining in his eyes and that familiar, infectious smile that seemed to light the room with its brilliance as he gave Josh his answer: “Okay”.

Leo had undoubtedly been the right choice. His presence on the ticket would neutralize the inevitable questions about Santos’s relative inexperience, and his acceptance of the nomination would lend the campaign the credibility and gravitas it sorely needed. More than that, though, it would finally enable Josh to offer Leo the opportunity he’d always believed the elder man deserved – just as Leo had once done for him one sunny afternoon on the steps of the Capitol building so many years ago.

But now, in retrospect, Josh had to admit that there had been another, more personal reason as well. As confident as he was in his abilities, Josh was also pragmatic enough to know that there was more for him to learn. Over the years, he had seen Leo scale all manner of mountains, both professional and personal, and Leo had done his best to teach Josh how to do the same. But in life and in politics there is always one more slope to conquer, one more dragon to slay; and Josh had been thankful for the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to tackle this particular challenge alone.

His chest suddenly tight with emotion, he slowed his steps as he concentrated on breathing in several deep gulps of the frosty night air. Taking in his surroundings, he was surprised to find that his feet had carried him past Washington Circle to the edge of Georgetown. The light from M Street’s many storefronts cast a welcoming glow on the pavement, lighting a path into the distance towards home. 

He was utterly exhausted, yet the thought of returning to his apartment, still musty from months of disuse, held little appeal. It wasn’t likely he’d be able to sleep even if he did return home – his mind couldn’t seem to stop its relentless churning, egged on no doubt by the adrenaline he could still feel buzzing through his veins. Normally, he would put this restless energy to good use, take refuge in his work and bury himself behind walls of paper and policy. But tonight the very thought of it – towering stacks of résumés awaiting his perusal, innumerable insincere messages of sympathy from over-eager politicians hoping for a piece of the pie – turned his stomach. 

It wasn’t until this evening, as he’d sat amongst his and Leo’s closest friends and colleagues in the Residence, that he realized just how well he’d been able to distance himself from his grief in the days leading up to the funeral. It had of course been necessary – Josh wouldn’t have been able to do his job otherwise – but that fact didn’t make the realization any more palatable. Leo – the man who had given him so much and brought him so far – deserved more than that from him. 

The problem was, his grief hadn’t been the only thing he’d been pragmatically avoiding these past few days. It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d sat across from Donna in that hotel bar, cocky and self-assured, meeting her smoldering gaze with his own. Now he wasn’t sure of anything, most of all where his relationship with her currently stood. Her behavior towards him on Election Day had been confusing, to say the least – until she’d come to him with the news about Leo. From that moment on, Donna had been the glue that had held him together during what had been one of the most emotionally turbulent days of his life. 

He’d forgotten just how good it felt to have her take care of him; it had been an aspect of their relationship he’d foolishly taken for granted when they’d worked together at the White House. He now also suspected that that had been one of the many reasons why she’d made the decision to leave. And while what he wanted more than anything right now was to hear her voice – he had to consciously squash the urge to dip his hand into his coat pocket for his phone – he was also wary of overstepping his bounds and driving her away again. For all he knew, the damage was already done, thanks to his awkward attempt at an invitation that afternoon. 

Which really left him with only one alternative: find a bar and get just drunk enough to allow him to stumble home and fall into bed and not leave him feeling nauseous and muzzy-headed tomorrow morning. His decision made, he turned on his heel and started towards the familiar façade of The Hawk and Dove. 

Stepping just inside the doorway several minutes later, he pulled back the heavy velvet draft cloth and stopped short at the scene before him. Where there had once been antiquated, mis-matched light fixtures hanging precariously from the ceiling, there were now evenly-spaced stylish sconces lining the walls – walls that he remembered being the neglected color of putty, but which had now been plastered smooth and repainted a light, welcoming blue that contrasted stylishly with the unblemished wood of the furniture. Neatly framed charcoal and ink drawings were hung in an even line, each with its own unobtrusive tag detailing its title and sale price.

He’d come here for a drink, yes, but also to enjoy the comfort of its familiar surroundings – there were good memories for him here, of friends and celebration, the warmth of which he found himself craving tonight. But in place of the familiar face he’d been expecting he found himself confronted by a stranger – decked out in what appeared to be blue suede seat cushions, no less. 

“Elvis would be thrilled,” he muttered with a heavy sigh as he allowed his backpack to fall from his shoulder to dangle at his side. He began to make his way through the maze of pub tables towards the only thing in the room that he recognized – the hulking shape of an intricately carved mahogany bar, standing mercifully where he remembered it at the far end of the room. 

Finding a space in the nearest corner, Josh waved down the bartender and ordered himself a neat scotch before hazarding a glance down the length of the bar – to find that he was being observed. A little way down the bar, watching him with an amused grin on his face and a highball glass in his hand was Danny. As the bartender handed Josh his drink, Danny cocked his head at the empty stool beside him in friendly invitation.

He hadn’t come into the bar looking for conversation or company, yet Josh found himself unable to come up with a reasonable excuse not to join his friend. Tossing a bill on the bar, he uttered a pinched “Thanks,” to the bartender, then picked up his drink and made his way through the crowd. 

Coming up beside Danny a minute later, Josh dropped his backpack beside the vacant stool with an audible thud before pulling himself into it. “Hey,” he said with a wan smile before lowering his eyes to his drink and taking a sip. 

Danny studied Josh quietly for a moment before replying, taking note as he did so of the other man’s pale face and drawn expression. “Hey. You okay?” Josh paused mid-sip to shoot him an incredulous glance and Danny winced. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“S’okay. You’re a reporter – you can’t help it.”

“You see a notebook anywhere?” Danny retorted a bit sharply, waving a hand at the bartop to emphasize the point. “C’mon Josh, I’m trying to be a friend, here.”

Closing his eyes, Josh blew out a noisy breath as his posture visibly deflated. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s been a really long day.”

“A lot more than a day, I’d imagine. Listen Josh, I really am sorry. I know how much Leo meant to you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Josh replied softly, giving Danny a weak but genuine smile before turning his attention to the basketball highlights playing on the television behind the bar and effectively stalling the conversation.

Danny stared at Josh for a moment longer as if willing the other man to continue, before he turned to watch the screen as well. The two men fell into a companionable, if uneasy, silence, Danny shifting his gaze every so often to surreptitiously study the profile of his friend. Josh for his part did his best to ignore Danny’s inquiring glances, the occasional self-conscious shifting in his seat the only outward evidence of his awareness of the other man’s scrutiny. 

It was some time later, during another such perusal that Danny noted both Josh’s empty glass and his unfocused gaze into the middle distance ahead. Narrowing his eyes in decision, Danny gestured at the bartender for another round, waiting for the drinks to be set down in front of them before turning in his seat. “So…” he drawled purposefully, “Are you homeless tonight, too?”

“No…” Josh choked out, the inadvertently swallowed alcohol burning as it slid down his throat. “Are you?”

Danny shook his head slowly. “Not as such. Couldn’t sleep, then?”

“Seriously, I think I may have forgotten how. What’re you doing here?”

“Me? Reflecting on the many cruel ironies of life.”

“That’s a bit heavy for a place that looks like this,” Josh commented indicating the crisply painted walls with an absent wave of his hand, “don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but it’s the only bar still open at this hour.” 

Josh grunted softly and took another sip of his drink. “When did they decide to turn this place into Starbucks with a liquor license, anyway?” 

Danny shrugged. “A few months ago, I think. Don’t know about you, but I liked it better when it was a poorly lit hole in the wall and your shoes stuck to the floorboards. Had character.”

“Yeah.” Josh squeezed his eyes tightly shut and sighed. “When did we get so old?”

“Right about the time they decided to refurbish this place, I’d imagine.” 

“God,” Josh sighed, dropping his head back to study the ceiling tiles above, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.” 

“Which leads me to ask again: what the hell are you doing here?”

“It was on my way home.” 

“You know, you’ve really gotten much better at this.”

“At what?”

“Not answering questions. If you’d been this good years ago, President Bartlet would never have had to contend with your secret plan to fight inflation.”

Josh was surprised to find himself grinning at the memory. “True, but then CJ would have been deprived of her favorite means of humiliating me. She and Donna both used to drag that sorry anecdote out every time they thought my ego needed a check.”

Danny smiled and nodded his agreement. “So, how is Donna?”

“What?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed shrewdly as he took note of Josh’s sudden discomfiture. “You know, Donna? Tall, blonde… “

“I – why do you ask?”

“S’not a trick question. I happen to like her, and you tend to see her a bit more often than I do these days.”

“I do?”

“You do still work with her, right?”

“Oh, right. Yes. Donna’s fine. She’s staying at CJ’s tonight.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

It was the slight lilt of resignation in Danny’s voice that caught Josh’s attention. “Really?” he replied, looking decidedly more alert as he swung his inquisitive gaze to his friend. “How?”

Danny met the other man’s eyes levelly. “CJ told me.” 

Josh raised his eyebrows and grinned. “’Kay.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“What did you mean earlier?”

“Earlier when? ‘Cause we’ve been sitting here for a while, now.”

“When you said you weren’t exactly homeless tonight.”

“Exactly what I said,” Danny retorted before draining the remainder of his drink and setting the now empty glass on the bar with an unnecessary thunk, “You’re not that good at this, Josh.”

“I’m better than you think.”

“Whatever you say,” Danny chuckled as he stood and reached for his wallet. “You’ll be okay?” he asked, eyes leaving his friend only long enough to pull out a couple of bills and lay them on the bar.

Josh nodded. “Right around the corner, remember?”

“Not what I was asking.”

Josh turned fully in his seat to regard his friend, giving him a tentative, grateful smile. “Thanks, Danny. And congratulations.”

“You’re welcome. You too.” 

Danny was halfway to the door before it occurred to Josh that his friend had been talking about more than just the election. The realization brought a genuine smile to his lips, made the weight he’d been carrying around for the past few days seem just a little bit lighter. Tossing back the remainder of his drink, Josh stood and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. It was time to start climbing, one step at a time.

 

*fin.*


End file.
